


you have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve; and I have always buried them deep beneath the ground

by amessagefor_you



Series: until now i felt time was moving too slowly | for svt [2]
Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kim Mingyu is a Good Friend, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi is Whipped, Lee Chan | Dino-centric, Lee Jihoon | Woozi is a Little Shit, Light Angst, M/M, Maybe one swear word, Minor Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon, Minor Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Open to Interpretation, Panic Attacks, Poetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:08:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amessagefor_you/pseuds/amessagefor_you
Summary: It was only when Soonyoung’s soft lips met his that Chan knew he really was selfish because he never wanted to feel this with anyone else ever again.But he was going to, he had to, he was leaving to New York and he wasn’t going to - he was going to stay in love with Soonyoung and the colours he spilled, the fireworks he ignited and somehow he knew that, but instead of kissing back Chan had scrambled backwards.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Chan | Dino
Series: until now i felt time was moving too slowly | for svt [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119875
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	you have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve; and I have always buried them deep beneath the ground

**Author's Note:**

> I made this one-shot slightly drunk and very very sad. so please enjoy me projecting my sadness on SoonChan!
> 
> this is not betaed, so I hope it’s okay.
> 
> title from flaws by bastille!

Chan grumbled a little as the small child’s feet patterned against the back of his seat again, snapping him out of his semi-sleepy state. He couldn’t be that mad at the mom - she had tried. Now Chan was pretty sure she was passed out from exhaustion of keeping the rambunctious child in check somewhat, and he really couldn’t blame her. 

When he turned back, the child looked at him with wide eyes, like they hadn’t been expecting the human in front of them to look. “Hey there buddy,” Chan began kind of awkwardly, his mind racing. He had honestly, no idea what to do with kids. Chan had always been the youngest, always doted on and given attention. Except at home, but that was with his brother. He knew he could roughhouse with his brother or teasingly call him a name, getting away with it when Gun would shoot back something equally offensive. 

He hadn’t talked to Gun in a long time, not since he’d left Korea. He should have probably messaged back, but he’d lost all his contacts. 

Besides, he wasn’t sure Gun would have even texted him after the stunt he pulled. He could still remember the absolute betrayal as Gun looked at the suitcase, full of clothes.

“You know Hyung,” Gun had said, and Chan could feel his heart breaking a little as he remembered the voice his brother had. “You could have told me, I wouldn’t have told.”

Chan shook off the memory like a wet dog and refocused on the kid. “Want to play Cham Cham Cham?”

“I don’t know what that is,” the kid managed, the wind whistling through the gap in his teeth. Chan smiled a little and explained the game in English, and the kid nodded excitedly. At least he was good at distracting the child, even if it meant sacrificing his own sleep. 

He could remember exactly who was good at that, when there were too many thoughts in his head as exams swum closer in college. He knew how to get the comfort from his older brothers, how he could crawl into their beds and most of them would cuddle him without question. 

Seungkwan would whine in the morning though about how his arm fell asleep, then would yelp when Chan pinched the same arm. It made the cuddles a little less appealing, but Hansol, Seungkwan’s boyfriend, usually also cuddled Chan when he slept in the same bed as Seungkwan. It meant double cuddles, and Chan would have been stupid to refuse double cuddles. 

If he really needed comfort, he would curl in Jeonghan’s bed. Jeonghan loved to sing Chan to sleep and would never ask questions until morning. If he wanted to talk, he went to Soonyoung. 

He stilled and shook the thought of Soonyoung - his smile - no. He wouldn’t think of Soonyoung. He couldn’t, it had been three years and Chan was doing fine. 

“You lost mister!” The child’s voice harshly yanked him back to the fact he was on an airplane to Seoul from the place he’d built a home in, New York City, and he had no idea what to expect. “What do I do?”

“You get to bop my head!” Chan chimed, lowering his head and letting the child hit it with the palm of his hand. Of course, that’s when the boy’s mom woke up. She looked properly terrified to see her child hitting a perfect stranger, and immediately rushed to apologise.

Chan laughed and assured her it was fine, they were playing Cham Cham Cham, and she deflated at that. “Oh thank goodness, I was so worried. My niece and nephew play that all the time, I’ve tried teaching Evan but he never wants to play.” 

“Because Vernon and Sofia always slap each other for it!” 

Chan’s mind went into overdrive at that, frowning. “Hansol Vernon Chwe?” 

“Yes?” Evan’s mom looks properly terrified at the question, but Evan is already nodding easterly. 

“He used to be my college roommate,” Chan was quick to explain, and the woman laughed a little.   
“Oh thank goodness. Oh! I should text Melody a picture of you - she probably knows who you are!”

“Oh yes she does,” Chan managed, awkwardly. Vernon, Seungkwan, and he had been inseparable since middle school up until college, when Seungkwan and Vernon started dating and Chan ran into the absolutely beautiful catastrophe that was Kwon Soonyoung. They were still close of course, but they’d all three gotten busy.

And then Chan had practically - there was no delicate way to say it - Chan had abandoned everything and ran away. 

He had planned it, he had meant to tell everyone, but it had happened too fast. Once it happened though, Chan hadn’t gone back. He’d changed phone numbers for convenience after he broke his phone, only texted his mom when he wasn’t running his ass off, had booked the plane ticket last minute because he’d forgotten that he should really be home for this, and tried his best to forget what had happened the night before he left. 

“She said that she’s surprised you’re alive! My my!” Melody’s sister laughed. “What, did you run away?”

“Something of the sort,” Chan managed awkwardly, and the woman’s eyes widened. 

“Oh I didn’t mean - I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re okay,” Chan smiled. “Evan, should we play more Cham Cham Cham?”

“Yes!” Chan tried to concentrate on the game, but he was notoriously bad at it, just like Seokmin was. Even though he was bad at it, Chan had, always in his heart, been a people pleaser.

That’s probably why so many people had been blindsided when Chan had decided to practically throw his life in Korea to the wind - they’d expected that from Soonyoung, and maybe Seungkwan, but Chan? Never Chan. 

Chan had been like an anchor - he kept everyone grounded, hydrated, polished. If the friend group had been gears, Chan would have been the oil used to make them move perfectly together. 

But Chan lived to help people, to make them feel better, and with pressure on him, Chan would make decisions no one could predict. 

Chan was a people pleaser, Chan was impulsive when he didn’t know what to do, and Chan was human. 

Chan hated it. Chan hated being human, he hated the way he felt the need to please, he hated that the guilt he felt was practically tattooed on his forehead. Now don’t get him wrong, he wouldn’t have changed flying to New York City and becoming a renowned MUA for Vogue and a few other large magazines for anything. 

But he would have told someone had it not been so sudden, he would have stayed home from the party, he wouldn’t have been pressed against Soonyoung like Soonyoung was a puzzle and he was the last piece no one else knew how to find. 

He wouldn’t have told Soonyoung anything, coming apart like a spool of thread being devoured by a sewing machine and tangled in ways he didn’t know was possible.

That may be why he told no one when he entered the contest, when he became a semi-finalist, then a finalist, then, it felt like for the first time, a winner. Maybe Chan was selfish and a people pleaser, a dangerously destructive combination.   
Chan didn’t know how his friends reacted when he left.

Well, he kind of did. His phone had blown up, he’d gotten scared and dropped it in the shower as he was changing the song as Wonwoo of all his older brothers called him, and it had shattered. 

Well, he’d gotten a new number from that, effectively changing his number and Chan had only ever memorised his mom’s number. Still, his mom never gave out his number for some reason, and Chan knew his friends had moved on. He never could blame them, never got mad. 

Chan sighed, Evan’s mom realising he was tired, telling Evan to stop and let Chan rest. 

It’s not like Chan’s mind would stop racing though, as they drew closer to Seoul his mind, usually a nice compartment of boxes began to spill into sticky, multi-coloured paint that swirled into a canvas. 

Chan only got the news he was a winner twelve hours before the party. He’d opened the email, hardly processing, then realising that he had won - but the ticket attached was in thirty six hours. He had to decide and so he said yes, not even really remembering he’d told no one about this project until now. 

But now he had to tell his mom and dad, both shocked, and Gun, who didn’t process it right away. “The college knows and they’ll transfer my credits,” Chan managed weakly. 

“Your college knew before us,” Chan’s mom had laughed, but he could see the way she looked at his dad with so much concern. He later learned that his parents had expected this out of Gun and not him, and that alone had made Chan want to fly home and apologise. 

But it was fine. His parents had assured him it was fine, that he was an adult and that it was perfectly okay. 

He packed during the time before the party, having already told his parents he was going despite hating parties. Hansol had known something was up, but hadn’t pushed it because he was busy decorating the place with Seungkwan, and promised Chan that he would tell him later.

Chan really had full intentions to, he really did, but Gun was there and Gun got shitfaced. When Gun got shitfaced, he talked. And Lord, he told everyone everything Chan told him, including the face that Chan was leaving. 

When that reached Chan’s friends, most of them were too drunk to react properly, thankfully. But Vernon wasn’t, and neither was Soonyoung and Jihoon. 

When Vernon heard Chan could swear he saw Vernon go through all five stages of grief under the strobe lights, and when Vernon turned to talk to Chan, he was already outside on the roof.

That’s where Soonyoung found Chan. Chan had always hated Soonyoung, a feat within itself. He hated the way Soonyoung made him mush, the way his eyes slanted to look like a clock, the fact that Soonyoung was blatant about his flaws. 

Soonyoung was like fireworks that hadn’t been set yet, barely contained but ready to explode. He was the colour spilling off a canvas that had nothing on it, the potential of the world cradled in his fingers. Chan hated when Soonyoung would hold him too tight when he won something, the way Soonyoung would laugh maybe a little too hard at a joke Chan made. He hated when Soonyoung grabbed his hand, squeezed a little and released his hand. 

Chan knew in his heart of hearts he didn’t hate Soonyoung. It was better though, for Chan to admit to himself that he hated Soonyoung than break himself down from the inside out and admit that he was deeply in love with Soonyoung. He wouldn’t admit the way his ears burned when Soonyoung stared at him, the smiles that came easier, the way they seemed to fit together when nothing else went right. If Chan was oil to the gears, Soonyoung was the one that could control how much was poured. 

And that night, Soonyoung, who cornered Chan on the roof, cried. 

Chan hadn’t known what to do. Soonyoung was the person who would cheer others up, he’d never seen Soonyoung crumble this badly in front of him. 

And then Soonyoung choked out a few words, along the lines of “you can’t leave us,” and “why didn’t you tell us sooner?” And Chan explained, for the first time in his life pouring out everything, about how he wanted to but didn’t think he was good enough, about the shadows and the fear and how he was selfish - he knew he was selfish - and how he just wanted to show them that he was worthy.

He’d never seen Soonyoung’s gaze as sharp as when Soonyoung told him furiously he was enough, he’d always been enough, his words stained by the raw emotion seeping into every word. Soonyoung wanted to know why Chan felt he wasn’t enough, he wanted to help Chan, and he knew that Soonyoung was putting his emotions aside to help Chan, like he always did, his flaw that Chan didn’t even think was a flaw at this point.

Soonyoung ignited under Chan’s confused look, rambling about how Chan was always flawless in his eyes, how he was perfect and amazing and he didn’t understand, he couldn’t understand because he wasn’t selfish like Chan. Well, he didn’t say the last part, but when Soonyoung looked at him with broken eyes, he could tell.

“You know Hyung, if you hate me you can tell me,” Chan had whispered. “I understand.”

“God how are you so dense Channie?” Had been Soonyoung’s response. Chan had looked up to see Soonyoung focused on him, his eyes soft. 

“How can you be so dense as to not see I’m in love with you?”

Chan’s world had shattered beneath his feet, and he felt himself falling through the roof and into the party then past it, everything whelming up and ebbing back like tides. 

It was only when Soonyoung’s soft lips met his that Chan knew he really was selfish because he never wanted to feel this with anyone else ever again.

But he was going to, he had to, he was leaving to New York and he wasn’t going to - he was going to stay in love with Soonyoung and the colours he spilled, the fireworks he ignited and somehow he knew that, but instead of kissing back Chan had scrambled backwards. 

He’d heard apologies, but he felt himself welling with emotions he didn’t know were possible, the feeling of electrical fireworks and short circuiting nerves practically igniting his systems. He heard Soonyoung’s “I’m sorry I thought you felt the same,” and he did but the fear crawling inside of him, his selfish desires, the way he wanted to please people and knew society would hate him if he continued - all made Chan leave Soonyoung to apologise to empty air. 

Chan had gotten home, a mess, the thought of Soonyoung’s words and the fireworks on his lips, the way the world would light up in colour when Soonyoung was there. 

Then he’d shut it down. He’d let himself yearn for a few days, even on the plane ride hassle to New York City (only Gun and his parents saw him off, he hadn’t told anyone else the plane time) and then throwing himself into work.

By throw, Chan meant that a day hadn’t gone by in the four years that he hadn’t worked. He’d always been planning, making appointments and appearances. He was the head MUA for Louis Vitton, Vogue, Dior, and Estee Lauder while still catering to specific stars he’d grown fond of. He stretched himself like a fitted sheet, almost too thin for comfort at times, but eventually it all fit together so Chan was busy, he didn’t have time to even grab his diploma that he’d gotten, a double major in cosmetic structure and business, with his prior certifications.

Chan wouldn’t say he was alone, but god he felt lonely. He’d be seen on weekends at parties with stars, his makeup done and his clothing neat only to be smeared and wrinkled by the time he got home. He’d never brought someone to the apartment he lived in - not a large one even, like many people would expect, but instead having a room dedicated to his makeup collection and another to photo shoots, with a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

He hadn’t had time to worry about kissing someone, but once he had after a shoot he was so excited about and he was drunk on champagne, but all he could remember is that he felt nothing coursing through his body like electrodes had pierced his skin. 

The woman he had kissed was nothing compared to Soonyoung.

And Chan knew it. He also know Korea was conservative, and America was less so. He knew his parents wouldn’t approve of him ever telling them about the butterflies, fireworks, colours that Soonyoung sparked into him like lightning. So he knew why he pushed away Soonyoung (the fear, he wouldn’t be loved) but he could remember the apologies. 

Soonyoung’s biggest flaw, and he’d tell you this himself, was that he loved too much, too hard, too attached and too… too much like Soonyoung. Soonyoung fell, he fell like Icarus did to the sun, and he would crash and burn.

Chan had read the messages of Soonyoung apologising and had tried to respond before his phone shattered, but Soonyoung had to be over him. He wasn’t going to ruin Soonyoung’s chances at love, he eventually had changed his phone and lost his chance to respond to Soonyoung.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please put your seatbelts on as we begin our descent. Thank you for -“ Chan zoned out the words again, checking his phone, his emails from his assistants who were taking over as he made his way back to Seoul for his brother’s college graduation. 

He hardly registered the plane landing and the shuffle through customs, and sighed when he got out, only to feel a small hand swat his. “Mister?” Evan asked, looking terrified, and Chan looked around to realise Evan’s mom wasn’t around. 

“Did you lose your Mommy?” Chan asked, immediately scooping up the child. Evan nodded, and Chan hummed softly. “No worries. Let’s go see if she’s getting your luggage yeah? What luggage do you have?”

“It’s Spongebob,” Evan said, and Chan gasped almost comically. 

“I love Spongebob! Who’s your favourite?”

“Patrick,” Evan said, and Chan nodded seriously, taking him over to the baggage claim for their flight. If the family was anywhere, it was likely here.

“I like Mr Krabs.”

“Evan?” A voice shouted, and Evan perked up. 

“Sofia!” He squealed, looking around and completely whacking Chan. 

“Evan?” A much deeper voice shouted, Chan felt his heart sink as he saw - how in the world had Hansol not changed? He looked the same, just a little older, and Seungkwan was shouting next to him. 

“There you are Evan!” Evan’s mom said gratefully, appearing next to Chan, who immediately surrendered the child as she hugged them both. “Thank goodness he found you.” 

“Mommy! I heard Sofia and Vernon!”

“Yes baby, they were looking too. And Seungkwan too! Thank you again - my goodness, I never got your name! What is it?” Chan felt himself not wanting to say it, but he was cut off by someone else.

“Chan?” It was familiar, much too familiar of a voice, it sounded octaves higher out of some emotion that Chan couldn’t pin, but he knew it was a mixture he would dissect if he was there a second longer. “Lee Jungchan?”

“No -“ Cham muttered, seeing his suitcase and immediately grabbing it, ignoring the commotion Seungkwan was causing behind him and he could swear he heard Vernon telling him not to slap Chan. He wouldn’t blame Seungkwan for slapping him though, he knew Seungkwan to have the most pent up rage in the world. At least Jihoon got it out, even if it was by brutally whacking Mingyu with a guitar when Mingyu suggested during sex Jihoon be like a little airplane and fly naked across the room. 

“Lee Jungchan!” He heard Seungkwan shout again, and then heard footsteps coming closer, and knew he was going to be socked into next year. 

Instead, someone came between them and Seungkwan couldn’t see Chan anymore as Chan made his way to the train station. He wasn’t even staying with family, knowing Gun would probably not want to see him, so instead he was staying close to Pledis U, or PU as his friends had called it when they went there.

They’d all be graduated, just like Chan. Probably scattered to the winds, doing whatever they were doing after graduation. For a minute, Chan wanted to know. It was crushing not to, the people who had shaped him had probably hated him (if Seungkwan trying to kill him was anything to go off of) but he quite honestly deserved it. 

He was shaking, he realised, and almost burst into tears when the train arrived. He knew that he was going the same direction as the Chwe family (were Seungkwan and Vernon married yet? Even though gay marriage wasn’t legal here, Seungkwan very often said fuck the law and did what he wanted), and wanted to avoid them, despite Evan being the cutest.

Chan sighed as the world kept turning, the train pulling up just as he heard someone screech his name again. He had headphones in, yeah he did, he had to, that was not Seungkwan storming onto the train with Vernon being pulled behind him, oh god. 

Chan sunk behind a couple, getting a weird look, but he could care less as Seungkwan stormed on in all his rage, looking more and more like he was going to tear Chan to pieces. Chan could feel the thunder and lightning radiating off of Seungkwan, he could hear his voice telling him the nerve of him to come back to Seoul and how he messed up everything. Chan knew without oil gears got rusty, he knew he’d messed up, and he knew Seungkwan would pummel him without regrets. 

So that’s why he hopped off the train, recognising the area almost immediately. He was only in Seoul for a few days, he could do to re-explore a little. Gun graduated tomorrow, and his mom had invited him to dinner the next night. 

So for now, Chan was free to visit old haunts with his suitcase in tow like a tourist. He was in Hongdae, and felt his heart swell at the noise, the happy shouts and way he could see buskers already on corners, dancing to music. He could remember the few times Soonyoung had roped him into busking, a flurry of “please” and “Channie it will be so fun” and “Hyungs will be joining us!” 

They’d choreographed for hours, and Soonyoung had always pushed Chan to perfection, laughing when Chan whined about his muscles being sore. “It’s better than you being stuck at home!” Chan had always protested, hating how Soonyoung’s eyes twinkled, making Chan’s insides twist. He worked at home, he protested, and Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “You work too much then Channie.”

“I do not!” Chan protested. “I work just enough.”

“Of course you do,” Soonyoung laughed, and Chan’s heart ached as his laugh seemed to echo through Hongdae. He wondered if Soonyoung had ever opened the dance studio he dreamed of, and if Jihoon still produced music for Soonyoung to belt out. 

He shook off the thoughts and instead felt his feet dragging him somewhere familiar. They’d always go here after a long day, crash in booth number eight on Minghao’s insistence (familiarity in chaos is what he said when Chan asked), and eat the greasiest food Chan could want. It was worse than some American food, Chan had found, but that was probably because Chan thrived on a bunny rabbit’s diet when he was working. And that was always.

The menu was nothing short of chaotic, as always, and the inside was only just buzzing as the sun started its hiding game behind the buildings of Hongdae. “Booth?” The hostess asked, and Chan nodded. “You still want eight right?” 

“Oh, no, I’m okay -“ Chan began, but it was all futile when the ajumma saw him. 

“Lee Chan!” Apparently absence made everyone remember his name, because before he knew it he was at the bar while the ajumma, named Naeun, began to scold him for getting so skinny and put a plate of food in front of him with a mug of frothy beer. 

Chan blinked as she kept scolding him, and chuckled softly. It felt familiar, this was where he went to cry and laugh, where he told Seungcheol that he hated Soonyoung and the mushy feelings that came and Seungcheol had rolled his eyes saying “that’s not hate that’s love.” He’d gotten drunk here the first time, crying over who knew what, and Jisoo had videos he’d held over Chan’s head for weeks. Naeun had gotten older, the fine lines seeming to have multiplied and her hair whiter, but she still cooked like a woman that hadn’t shattered her hip and lost her husband in an accident when Chan was in diapers.

Chan wondered if it got easier with time. “Why aren’t you eating mister?” Naeun asked, and Chan laughed lightly, putting the first piece of kimbap in his mouth. “Where have you been? You know, your friends still meet in booth eight from time to time but I haven’t seen you in years!”

“Sorry,” Chan said, feeling a weight tumble onto his shoulders. She must be furious, he knew she wouldn’t like him -

“We all get busy, but make sure you stop by more. You’re too skinny.” And that was it. No torrential anger, no hatred, just concern. “What are you doing now?” 

Chan didn’t even realise the lump in his throat seemed to be bulging to push tears out of his eyes until lukewarm drops hit his hands, which were shaking so bad Chan couldn’t even hold his chopsticks anymore. His vision was blurring, the colours swimming as his body wracked with sobs he hadn’t let out in years. 

Naeun immediately stopped cooking and seemed to be calling someone, who didn’t seem to be receptive to her call, but she hung up anyways after a minute. Chan’s vision was tunneling and wavering before expanding, colouring exploding and clashing as tears ripped away his foundation, exposing every pocket mark he had from his habits of picking at himself, the small marks and scars. 

That wasn’t the only foundation being ripped away as Chan sobbed, breath threading through his lungs before expelling too fast for Chan to even call it carbon dioxide. He felt his bravado crumbling, the very fact he’d convinced himself he was fine, the way his makeup ripped away everything and nothing, how he’d distanced himself to the point of meaningless and meaningful isolation. 

He hadn’t wanted the shame. The guilt, the connection lost. He could have been happy, he really could have. He felt panic sink its claws into his skin, ripping him away to bones and nothing more as the world flickered. 

Chan was an anchor, and anchors sunk, anchors drowned the people roped on them so tightly they couldn’t scream. Chan had anchored himself, he’d told himself everything would get better, that he would be okay, and what was happening now?

“Hyung?” A voice said, and Chan’s vision seemed to clear when he looked up to see Gun looking confused. “What are you doing here?” It wasn’t accusatory, or even angry, it was curious. 

“You’re graduating,” Chan managed to choke out, and Gun’s eyebrows raised. 

“How did you know?”

“Mom.”

“Mom had your number?” Gun exclaimed. “I asked for it but she said she didn’t have it!” 

Chan’s head was still spinning, he was shaking and the world was twisting like funhouse mirrors had replaced his eyes. He was plummeting, the foundation cracking, spiralling, spinning and vomiting him back onto the same place. “I’m sorry,” Chan choked out, and Gun shook his head. 

“I figured you had your own reasons. But your friends -“

“They’re strangers now,” Chan managed and Gun shook his head no. 

“They were so confused hyung. They loved you so much and you left like dust, you didn’t contact them -“

“I broke my phone, I got scared in the shower.” Chan defended weakly, and Gun laughed just as the bell clanged and a familiar voice came floating in. 

“I promise you I’ll be back in time for dinner. I’m just picking up an ingredient Ajumma bought for me. You better be back from the studio though Hoonie.” 

It was like slow motion, almost comical when Mingyu saw Gun and Chan. His mouth fell open, his eyes widening, and his phone nearly fell out of his hands. “Hoonie I need to call you back -“ Mingyu began, and Jihoon obviously wasn’t thrilled by that prospect, but Mingyu cut him off in a way Chan had never seen. “This is urgent.” And Mingyu hung up the phone, still looking at Chan like this was some sick prank. Chan felt his stomach curling, eating itself under Mingyu’s eyes that held emotion Chan didn’t want to know. 

“Kwannie said you were back,” Mingyu muttered. Chan didn’t respond, trying to focus on Mingyu, maybe the fact Mingyu hadn’t changed either with puppy eyes and fluffy black hair that wouldn’t be tamed. “He also said you tried to kidnap Vernon’s cousin, so I didn’t really believe him.” There was obviously more Mingyu wanted to say, but this wasn't really the place.

The colours were still swimming as Chan tried to breathe, Mingyu sighing as he knelt next to him. Mingyu even smelled the same, like pine needles and something more musky that Chan could never name. “Come on,” Mingyu muttered, and Chan stumbled up. “Jihoon’s gonna skin me alive.” 

“You still live with him?”

“We’re kinda engaged, I hope I still live with him,” Mingyu chuckled. 

“Oh. When did that happen?” Chan asked, and Mingyu shrugged. 

“A year ago.”

“Congratulations,” Chan offered weakly, trying to be normal, trying not to sink, and Mingyu just nodded, taking the ingredient he had ordered from Naeun and pulling Chan up like he was still a baby in college that needed Mingyu to take him home. 

Chan vaguely realised Gun wasn’t with him anymore, hearing Mingyu say something like Gun had work. Chan’s head still felt like he was underwater though, and hardly registered that Mingyu had somehow dragged him to Gangnam instead and was scanning into a luxurious apartment suite. 

“Sit,” Mingyu said, dumping Chan unceremoniously onto the couch and walking away. Chan didn’t move, finally being able to focus on his surroundings. It was pristine, white edges and black lines with splashes of colour that Chan, when he focused, could see Mingyu or Minghao’s signature decorating the corner. 

Within a few minutes, he heard the door open smoothly and Jihoon came in, stretching and waving at Chan on the couch. “Hey Chan. Gyu, what’s for dinner,” Jihoon froze as Mingyu comes out with a glass of water and some leftover cold soup, and whips himself to look at Chan, his eyes narrowing. “Chan?” 

“Oh god,” Mingyu muttered, practically dumping the tray on the table and wrapping his arms around Jihoon. “Hey baby, look who I found!” Mingyu managed, and Jihoon stared at him. 

“Let go Mingyu.”

“Look, I know you don’t have the strongest feelings of like towards Chan -“

“I hate him.” 

“I know,” Chan’s voice is weak, and Jihoon rolled his eyes. 

“I know.” He mimicked. “You need to hear that I hate you.” 

“Jihoon.” Mingyu’s voice held warning, and Chan felt himself tremble. He really didn’t want to come between the couple, but Mingyu and Jihoon were both stubbornly pig headed and always had been. 

That’s why people were always surprised they were dating, because Jihoon was more likely to smack Mingyu and then be sweet to Seungcheol. They loved each other though, and you would have to be blind not to see that. 

“What? Chan literally kissed Soonyoung then left us all. Why shouldn’t I hate him?”

“I’m sure Chan has his reasons.” Mingyu says placidly. “Besides you’re forgetting my brother is close to Gun.” The unspoken words of “and that means I probably know more about this than you but you were too blindsided by rage to listen to me” hang in the air, making Jihoon scoff. 

“Then enlighten me oh great Mingyu.”

“Chan? How long did you know you won?”

“Thirty six hours,” Chan managed, still feeling shaky. 

“He still entered. You didn’t even tell us you entered Chan.” 

“Because I didn’t expect anything from it,” Chan muttered. “It was a Vogue contest for crying out loud.”

“And you got a notification when you became a semi finalist right? You had to do another look.”

“They presented it as if they’d sent it to everyone, so I really had no idea,” Chan replied, and that had been true. Chan only knew he was a semifinalist when he got the email congratulating him on being a finalist, then five hours later an email congratulating him on winning. “And besides, a party where you all were drunk wasn’t the best way to tell you.”

“The fact remains you left like that. And then you ghosted us.”

“Wonwoo startled me in the shower.” These sounded like fake excuses even to Chan who knew what had happened, and Jihoon scoffed.

“Look Chan, if I’m being honest, pretty much all of us got pissed at you and stopped caring after a year.” 

“Don’t you dare lie to him.” Mingyu sighed. “I brought him here because he was having a breakdown in Naeun-ajumma’s.”

“If it makes Jihoon-hyung feel better he can slap me,” Chan said, and the both of them looked at Chan with wide eyes. “I deserve it.”

“You’re right you really do,” Jihoon agreed. 

“But if you slap me you have to answer all my questions honestly.” Chan reasoned, and saw Mingyu smile a little. Chan had always been a bargainer in their friend group, Jeonghan claiming that his baby had learned it from him. Jihoon frowned, weighing his options, and decided on something. 

“I’ll slap you. Only because you really deserve it, and then Mingyu can answer the questions, because he would anyways.” 

“Great -“ Chan managed to get out before Jihoon backhanded him, hard, and Chan saw the stars falling to the Earth as Mingyu gasped. 

He couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it though. He probably deserves so much more, he knows he does, but he knew Mingyu would argue he doesn’t, and calm Jihoon down in some magical way. He could remember the times Jihoon had gotten annoyed with Soonyoung, making the tiger-like boy shriek. He’d always hide behind Mingyu or Chan, Chan’s breath leaving his body as Soonyoung begged in his ear not to let Jihoon murder him.

So naturally, that had to be his first question. “Where’s Soonyoung?” 

“He works as your dad’s assistant at the studio and will be taking it over.” Mingyu hummed. “He wanted to open his own, but the time and connections it takes is too long, and Gun won’t be wanting to dance forever like Soon does.”

“Was Soonyoung drunk the night I left?”

“No,” Mingyu answered with full certainty. “He only got drunk once you’d left the party.”

“Did he tell you what he said to me?”

“Words weren’t really needed. Everyone assumed by how he acted he’d finally told you.” 

“Did everyone know but me?”

“Pretty much.” Jihoon was curled on an armchair while Mingyu sat next to Chan but not too close, like if he touched Chan he’d be gone. Chan couldn’t blame Jihoon for the scathing looks he was giving, fire practically eating Chan from the inside out and not in a good way. It was stinging, burning, itchy, ugly flames. “So what have you been up to?”

“Work.”

“Do you have anyone in your life?”

“Other than some crazed fans, not really,” Chan managed. “I had one follow me onto set one time claiming she was my wife.”

“Did you really just work for the four years you were gone?”

“This is the first break I’ve taken - well, kind of taken.” As Mingyu looked closer, Chan knew what he was seeing. He was seeing the hollows of Chan’s cheeks that were permanent, the dark of his eyes, his twitching hands. He was seeing the years of work Chan did, the small tremors he can’t hide when his phone does vibrate (and it’s always vibrating). Chan’s face would pale if something bad happened - he paled if it was good. He couldn’t eat more than a meal a day, drank more than he ate, and his best friend was healthy dose of medication. Even now, he picked up his phone and checked it, seeing messages from his assistant, Mark, and his other assistant Donghyuck. They were all reassuring, but he knew what Mingyu saw. 

“Chan, are you taking care of yourself?”

“I’m an adult,” was Chan’s response. He knew that, more than anything screamed a no to Mingyu and Jihoon, and saw them exchange a glance. 

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“The way here.” Chan knew why he was lying, he knew why he was trying to protect himself, because if he let them in they’d get hurt, he’d get hurt, and it was better for them to hate him than love him. He’d always been like this, and no one knew it better than them.

“When’s the last time you danced?” Mingyu asked out of nowhere, like he was dropping the whole matter, but Chan knew better. 

“I haven’t danced since I left Korea.” That made Jihoon’s brow furrow. Chan, when he lived in Korea, if he wasn’t doing makeup or homework, was practically glued to his family’s dancing studio with or without Soonyoung. It was a way for Chan to paint the world, show colour in forms that no one else knew how to do. “I gave it up.”

“Why?” Mingyu asked, curiosity spilling into his words. 

“I’m too busy,” Chan could feel their eyes burning into him, and shifted, his tongue feeling heavy. 

“That’s not the reason.” Jihoon blurted. Chan froze, pressing his lips together, and blinked.

“It is.” It had to be. Chan had convinced himself that was why, he was too busy with work and work that he piled on, on, on until he couldn’t be without stress, dark circles, and coffee. 

It wasn’t because a studio reminded him of the time Soonyoung had first crashed there, all bright eyes and a shock of black hair that turned into a kaleidoscopic blur of colours, just like Soonyoung was. 

It wasn’t the way the air hung the first time Soonyoung laughed, the sounds slipping into Chan’s ears and weaving their way into every part of his brain. It wasn’t anything about Soonyoung’s perfection, his detail, his love, his passion - “it’s not about Soonyoung.”

“We never said it was,” Mingyu said mildly. “But you should go to your dad’s studio.”

“Mingyu.”

“He missed you the most.”

“Mingyu.”

“And -“

“Kim Mingyu.” Jihoon practically dragged Mingyu away, and Chan listened curiously. “You know how long it took for Soonyoung to be okay again.” At least some things don’t change, like Mingyu and Jihoon not being able to talk quietly.

“And he’s still not okay!” Mingyu responded. “It took him breaking his leg to realise that shit wasn’t going to change!”

Chan’s blood curdled to ice at that, his body trembling a little more. He’d made Soonyoung break his leg? 

He couldn’t do this. 

Chan grabbed his suitcase, already out of the door and on the street by the time Mingyu and Jihoon realised he was gone.

Gangnam was beautiful at night, but he was also not exactly in Sinchon. So, not even caring at this point, Chan began to walk. It was warm enough, and Chan knew he would be fine to walk the kilometres it would require. Maybe it wasn’t such a brilliant idea with the thoughts tumbling through his head, but he didn’t want to take a taxi or a car. 

The thoughts were stuck on one beautiful catastrophe though, one that Chan’s brain was digging up every detail of. What did they mean he still wasn’t okay? 

Soonyoung had been the only one out of their friends not to contact Chan more than thrice. Granted, his phone had busted less than a week into being in New York City. But now that he thought of it, Chan hadn’t even asked his mom for his friend’s numbers at any point, so he only had himself to blame for not knowing if Soonyoung had contacted him.

A small part of him prayed that Soonyoung had, but he knew it was stupidly hopeless. He didn’t know that Soonyoung would stare at his Instagram for hours when it was late, or read over texts that had gone undelivered. Chan hadn’t been on Instagram in years, because Donghyuck ran it for him, and Soonyoung could tell, because at some point the captions Chan had written, which were always kind of raunchy, were replaced with ones that sounded so sickeningly cookie cutter Soonyoung hated it.

Chan hadn’t been the only one whose world came crashing down at that party.

Chan shook his head for thinking that Soonyoung would even be thinking about him - Chan had been the reason Soonyoung had broken his leg according to Jihoon, and Chan knew that he wouldn’t have forgiven himself. 

Right now really was just a time for Chan to find all his flaws wasn’t it? Maybe this was divine punishment for never surfacing his flaws, for now wearing them on his sleeve. He wasn’t Soonyoung, who would tell you “don’t do that or I might just fall in love with you” and mean it. He wasn’t Mingyu, who knew his way to someone’s heart. He wasn’t Gun, someone consistent and grown. He was Chan, he was lost, he wanted to go home but he didn’t know where that was.

So instead of going where his feet were pulling him, he went to his hotel. He checked in with his credit card, he grabbed his key, and he retired into his room.

It was quiet, and Chan didn’t want music. He hardly ever listened to music anymore either, something that he had always done. He had enough thoughts, enough running through his mind without the thoughts of lyrics.

But now, music would trip him up and make his thoughts jumble. It had started two years ago like that, the sounds washing memories over him that he didn’t know connected to a song. It had started when someone played Wonder Girls and Chan was yanked back to the time Seungkwan dared Joshua to give Jun a striptease to Nobody. 

He could still remember Jeonghan gasping, saying that Chan shouldn’t be privy to such blatant sexual acts, and Chan had been quick to point out the fact he’d found Jeonghan giving Seokmin a blowjob in the janitor’s closet one time. Seokmin turned red and Jeonghan had spluttered, making Wonwoo ask if Seokmin was a spitter or a swallower. Chan had replied it was Jeonghan on his knees for Seokmin, making their friends cheer excitedly and Seungcheol groaned as they discussed if Jeonghan was a spitter or swallower. 

Chan’s lips tugged up at the memory, sighing as he turned off the lights of his hotel room. He wasn’t hungry, he didn’t eat much these days, but he did shower.

He washed off the day, trying to think this was just another hotel in the United States, he was just at a shoot. 

But tomorrow was Gun’s graduation, and as Chan reached into his suitcase for his toiletries, his fingers brushed against the present he got his brother. He didn’t know if he would like it, but it had reminded him of something his friends would have gotten him. 

Chan opened his emails when he was done showering, replying easily as though the words were drilled into his brain. “Thank you so much for reaching out -“

He gets bored at some point and closes his phone, thinking. He could go walk, he’s close to Hongdae and he can go to the studio - it was past midnight, no one would be there.

Before he was even aware of it, Chan’s feet were padding out and down, he was in the streets of Hongdae in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he’s texted his mom for the password to the keypad on the door, which beeps when Chan enters the numbers of his parent’s wedding anniversary. 

The silence was choking, deafening as he walks through studios, ghosts rising from the grave to curl around him. He could remember Seungcheol rapping loudly to Rain, Vernon going “aye!” at the most random moments and interrupting the flow. He remembered Minghao flying over Jun, a ribbon tying them together as Jun laughed at Jisoo remarking they looked like floundering fish. Mingyu and Wonwoo bickering over where to go to dinner, Jihoon screeching when Soonyoung stole his laptop to play with autotune, Jeonghan, Seokmin, and Seungkwan giggling at the antics. 

Chan didn’t realise there was a light on until he was at the door, light trickling through the crack under the door. Chan frowned, checking the time. It was almost two in the morning, how could someone be dancing?

Chan sighed, realising he had done the same when he still danced and went to the window to look. 

What he saw slammed the breath out of his lungs. 

It was Soonyoung, all grace and loose limbs, mid flight in a song with his eyes closed. He landed on his feet and keeps going, Chan’s eyes locked on him. It was enough for Chan’s heart to slam into his ribs, to want to join him, to want to hold him, to apologise.

To tell him that it was always him, and it was never his fault, it was always Chan’s for fear and unknown knowledge, it was all Chan’s.

His hand was on the doorknob but it wasn’t turning, he wasn’t going to interrupt Soonyoung. To interrupt artwork, the colours spilling onto a white canvas, Chan would have to be foolish. He watched as Soonyoung painted the room, his eyes landing on the mirror more often than not. But when he was done, he looked around like there was something watching him. Chan felt himself panicking for a minute, but Soonyoung shrugged and went back to his music.

He’d only gotten prettier. His hair was longer, back to black, his eyes the same if not a little duller, his cheeks chubbier than before. That was good, Soonyoung had always joked all the fat on him was in his cheeks, and when asked which ones, he’d slap his own butt, despite there being nothing there but muscle.

Chan didn’t realise the door was opening until it was far too late, the light growing stronger as Soonyoung stepped out, sweaty and out of breath a little. 

It was then Soonyoung froze. Chan looked like a deer in headlights, his eyes wider than the world as he looked at Soonyoung. Chan immediately moved to apologise before Soonyoung blinked a few times. “Oh shit I’m hallucinating again.” 

Chan hadn’t been expecting those words, maybe an “I hate you” or “why are you here?” But Soonyoung looked at him like a ghost he’d been longing to make contact with, and Chan almost laughed out of bubbly relief. 

“What do you mean again?”

“It happens when I don’t get enough sleep, I don’t know.” Soonyoung fidgets before looking at Chan. “You know, you don’t look the same.”

“As other hallucinations?” Chan asked, and that’s when Soonyoung decided to pinch Chan, prior experience telling him that this would break the illusion, and making it hard enough to leave a welt on his arm that has Chan yelping in pain. “Hyung!”

It’s like ice water had been splashed in Soonyoung’s face, and Chan could see Soonyoung’s lips fall open. “You’re here.”

“I’m not a hallucination, no.” Chan breathed, close enough to feel the warmth spilling off Soonyoung and the smell of the studio that Chan could swear was just Soonyoung’s perfume. He was close enough to see the circles under Soonyoung’s eyes, the soft way his lips fell open and closed, the searching look he gave him. 

“Wait for me.” That’s all it took to root Chan on the spot, Soonyoung vanishing into the locker room to take a shower. He reappeared a few minutes later, smelling like lavender soap, and he went back into the studio to grab the rest of his stuff, turning off the lights and plunging them into darkness. “Chan, do you want to go get something?”

“Like?”

“Food?” Soonyoung asked. “I think I need food to process this.” 

“Yeah then, food.” It was awkward as they walk out, because there’s too much they both want to say but not the feeling of the words wanting to escape just yet.

Chan ended up with Soonyoung in booth eight, and Naeun began to pepper Chan with questions about earlier as she brought out two glasses of water. “The two of you! You’re both paper thin, a gust will blow you!” And Chan sees it in Soonyoung, he sees the soft smile while his body screams of exhaustion. The table is soon piled with greasy foods, and Soonyoung grabs a wing of fried chicken first.

“So what brings you back to Seoul?”

“Gun’s graduating,” Chan muttered, watching Soonyoung chew. “You’ve changed.”

“Four years do that to a person,” Soonyoung’s tone wasn’t rebuking, it was drawn. Saddened even, as he looks at Chan. “You’ve changed too Channie.”

Channie, a nickname that Soonyoung looked scared to have had rolled off his tongue but then Chan felt himself smile at the warm feeling the name gives him. He didn’t know that Soonyoung’s heart pounded seeing Chan smile like that, and all Soonyoung wanted to do was apologise.

To tell him he was sorry for kissing him, sorry for throwing him off. Sorry for ruining him, sorry for driving him to move. But Soonyoung’s thoughts didn’t go unnoticed.

“You know, I didn’t leave because you kissed me.” Chan wished he didn’t blurt out those words, because Soonyoung chokes his chicken almost comically, eyes bugging out. Chan, being nervous and with no filter between his brain and mouth, rambled on almost immediately. “I didn’t, I got the notification I had won the contest and I didn’t even think I would win Soonyoung, and so I told no one, and when it came to fruition it was too late then my heart turned to putty with you crying, and I’m sorry I didn’t know you were in love with me sooner, I’m really sorry. I have so much shit going on and I’m nothing like you but I think that’s why I’ve always loved you?” 

“I broke my phone when Wonwoo called me in the shower because I was putting on a playlist and he scared me. But I never saw anything you sent me, and I wanted to explain myself but I was scared. Soonyoung I’m still so scared of what people think of me, I’m scared of what you think about me. I’m terrified of myself some nights, I know what I did was so wrong. And you shouldn’t have waited for me, I don’t even know if you did but if you did you wasted four years of your life on someone who can’t even talk properly? That’s stupid. You know what? I think I need a drink.” 

Soonyoung was in shock as Chan ordered a bottle of soju and asked for two glasses. He was still in shock when Chan downed a shot of soju and groaned. “I’m sorry Hyung.” 

“Did you just call me stupid?”

“Is that what you’re focusing on?” Chan squeaked, and Soonyoung pouted. 

“Yes! Plus your confession is literally four years late!” 

“I know I know -“

“And you’re saying you didn’t memorise my number? Your favourite hyung’s? Seriously?” 

“I didn’t actually -“

“And you come back and hit me with this? Chan, I swear to God you’re insane sometimes.” Soonyoung sighed. “You come into the studio, watch me for who knows how long, then I ask if you’re a hallucination - and you played along -“

“Sorry, it is concerning that you hallucinate about me though.“

“When it happened I had a fever. Nothing weird, I just cried for four hours because you vanished - the hallucination, not you. I cried a lot more when you actually moved.” 

“I figured.”

“And then you bribe me with food! Like you know I like food, and you know I like you! This is a clear set up.”

“How is this a setup? You said you wanted food! Wait, you like me?”

“Yes I like you?” Soonyoung laughed, taking a sip of his water. 

“You’re saying you waited four years?”

“I was willing to wait longer.”

“But why?”

“Because,” Soonyoung said softly. “I know you. I know you, and I knew that when you were here you had the prettiest smile and you captivated me in everything you ever did. I knew deep within me you wouldn’t leave because I kissed you but my mind whispered you would.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know.” Silence overtook the two again as Chan finally picked up a dumpling to eat, and Soonyoung demolished another piece of fried chicken. “But Chan, you’re not moving back here are you?”

“Not in the next year, but I know there’s been a transfer position opening here in Allure makeup-wise and I have an application in for it. If I got it, I’d be in Seoul starting New Year’s of next year and transferring permanently in February.”

“And if not?”

“I stay in New York.” 

“Chan?”

“What?”

“Do you actually love me?”

“I do,” Chan hummed. “But I don’t think we should rush into a relationship because feelings are there.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung muttered. “That’s what I was trying to do four years ago I think, and look where we are.” 

“Let’s just get to talking again,” Chan smiled, holding out a hand and grasping Soonyoung’s in his gently. “And we’ll see what happens from there.”

Soonyoung smiled a little at that, and squeezed Chan’s hand back. Then his face went serious. “You do realise for me to keep in contact with you, I will need your phone number.” And Chan, looking at the colours spilling from Soonyoung, the undeniable fireworks at their touch and the stars in his eyes, Chan realised he was so lucky as to hold the entire universe in front of him.

And no amount of force, distance, or flaws could keep them apart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, or constructive criticism, like don’t get drunk and project your feelings onto characters, or kudos!
> 
> If you want to yell at me, my Instagram is @roses_for_jeonghan and my Twitter is @softseunglix!


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